In the blink of an eye
by Emerald-Water
Summary: -"The salt. Please! It won’t stop her. But maybe it’ll help him and weaken her. If she attacks now... I..." He held the little boy tight for a moment. "I can't put him through that again..." Sam is in a race against time and evil to save his brother...
1. Intro

Hey guys!

So! I wanted to do this story for so long! But I wanted to do it different, because it has been done a couple of times. So I hope it worked out!  
I want to dedicate this story to **Romi! **I'm just happy to know ya girl! And I soooo want to thank my bestest Pumpkin (**Soncnica**) for helping me to keep sense in all that ;) *hugs*... so if you haven't read something from her... you definitely have to check her out.

Well, I don't want to go on and babble. Enjoy the Intro! Tell me what you think... and I warn you... there is a lot of "awww" ahead.

* * *

„So, Missouri called you?" Sam asked.

"Jepp." Dean causally replied.

"And she told you that she has something just our kind of thing?" he asked further.

"Yes." _There it was again. For a moment Sam felt like strangling his brother._ Sighing quietly he continued his inquiry.

"So. Did she tell you anything else?"

"Jeppers!"

"Dean!" Sam threatened.

He could see his brother's grin blossom as he watched him.

"Yes, Sammy?" his brother asked innocently, braking and stopping the car on the side of the road.

"Do you mind sharing some information, dude?"

"We're here." Dean simply said, shrugging his head in a general direction.

Sam looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"We. Are. Here." Dean smiled a cheesy smile, then growing serious again he shut down the engine and opened his door.

"Missouri… kinda knew where we were at the moment. Always gives me the jeebies…" he muttered under his breath, turned to Sam and asked impatiently: "You coming?"

Sam unbuckled himself and got out of the car giving Dean a dirty look.

"What?" Dean asked, smirking.

"Where is 'here' exactly?" Sam asked instead of answering, trying not to sound too annoyed at his brother's behaviour, but failing miserably.

"Greybull, Wyoming?!" Dean answered, ignoring Sam's cadence and the roll of his little brother's eyes.

"You know Sammy, you might don't remember, because it was the time when I still had to change your diapers, but we lived here for a few months."

Now Sam's curiosity was awoken.

"We lived here?"

"Jupp. In exactly that building. That's why Missouri called us… me. She got information that something's going on in that sorry excuse of a motel."

"What do you remember about the time we lived there?" Sam wanted to know looking at the run-down place.

"Don't remember much." Dean answered.

At Sam's raised eyebrows he continued:

"I mean, I was what? Eight? Plus, I've been sick while we lived here."

"I don't remember that. I don't remember you ever being sick…" Sam said trying to recognize something, anything.

"That's because Dad had Pastor Jim take you, guess he was worried you'll pick it up or something... I remember that when he told me I was kinda… uhhh… never mind." Dean stopped himself from finishing the sentence, starting for the abandoned motel instead, walking along the line of doors and reading the room-numbers out aloud.

Sam remained where he was for a moment, and then hurried to follow his brother.

"Do you know what we're looking for?" He asked.

"You'll like this Sam!" Dean said, grinning again, as he pushed open one of the ugly green doors and vanished inside the motel room.

Sam stopped again. Something was off. He felt that odd tingling running down his spine, the fine hair at the back of his neck starting to rise, alerting him of trouble.

"Dean?" he asked, his hands wandering to the waistband of his jeans where his gun was hidden.

"Holy shit! Sam, get you scrawny ass in here. You gotta see this!" Dean's muffled reply from inside the room made Sam even more uneasy.

Sam took a look around him, still at unease, but finally shrugging it off he stepped over the threshold and into the dull-lit room.

In the moment he entered, several things happened all at once.

A blinding white flash, followed by a deafening bang echoed through the little room, ozone almost making it impossible to breathe.

Sam could see Dean fly through the air like a rag doll, hitting the opposite wall, then darkness ripped him away...

For Dean, things were similar. He felt himself be airborne and hitting the wall hard, sliding down and gagging on the powerful ozone-smell. Dazed, he forced his eyes open and for the blink of an eye he thought he could see...

"SAM!"

... to be continued

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	2. Reality slips

Hey folks!

Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate it. Now, lets dig into this. I'm really interested what you'll say to this chapter. I hope you'll like it ;)

Oh, and I just wanted to remind you: Something big is coming... I participate in a new master-project of darksupernatural *hugs*  
A bunch of writers (Sammygirl1963, DancerInTheDark101, Soncnica, Blue Peanut M and M, Vonnie, V. R. Jennings, Merisha, darksupernatural and me) will make **Winchester Singel Oneshots**, in a sort a follow-up project on **"Moments in time"** (for all who've read that). So, I just wanted you all to get curious... and see what we'll come up with!

* * *

**In the blink of an eye**

Sam jolted awake, panting heavily. He was lying on his stomach on a bed. Looking up he immediately recognized the dimly lit room as a motel room.

Dean must have helped him back, although he couldn't remember a thing about how he got here. With a sigh he let his head fall back down on the mattress.

Touching his head, he groaned silently. It felt as if someone worked him over with a sledge-hammer... vision-like. But he didn't have a vision. He was sure of it.

"Dean?" he asked huskily, wondering where his brother was. He went rigid when he heard the cocking of a gun.

"One move Mister and you'll make my Daddy proud." a young voice behind him said threateningly.

Sam's mind suddenly started to work overtime. _What the hell happened? Where __am __I?_ _And more important, where __is__ Dean?_

Sitting up slowly and turning with his hands up he looked at his opponent and almost snorted.

_The kid was no more the__n seven? Eight? Dean __would__ love __this__. He'd never live it down. _

"Put the gun down, buddy. I won't..."

"H-how did you get into our motel room!" the boy demanded, the gun shaking slightly in the kid's grip.

"I... dunno!" Sam answered, baffled by the kid's demeanour.

"Bull..." the boy replied, one hand leaving the gun and wiping at his forehead.

Somehow that movement seemed so familiar to Sam.

"Put the gun down. I won't..." Sam started again, pushing himself up, but stopped in mid-movement when the boy cocked the gun.

"I wouldn't do that..." the boy hissed.

Sam stopped at the kid's words.

"Before I went to bed, it was only me, my dad and..." the kid seemed to stop himself from going on further, eyes suddenly glistening. "DAD!" he hollered instead. "Where's my dad? How did you come in? What did you do with my Dad?!"

Sam saw the shudders that were running down the boy's frame, the gun wavering in his grip. His brain suddenly started to work on pure instinct and he used the kid's agitation as a distraction and pounced. With incredible speed he lunged forward, landing on his knees and using his forearm, he broke the boy's grip on the weapon. At the same time he grabbed for the kid, to stop him from falling.

He was rewarded with a high-pitched, agonized scream that made him flinch. The kid's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward in Sam's grip, hanging limply over his shoulder.

"Kid?" Sam was flabbergasted. _He __didn't__ hit the boy that hard_. Shaking the body of the boy gently, he could feel the unnatural heat radiating from the kid.

He grabbed the boy under the pits of his arms gently, leading him all the way down to the floor. He took the gun, clicking the safety in place and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans before his hands flew over the body, stopping as he saw something peeking out from under the rim of the boy's shirt.

"Shit..." he mumbled, pulling up the tee to stare at the claw-marks and suddenly something inside his head snapped. His eyes moved slowly up to meet the boy's face. Freckles framed with soft, blonde hair... the feature so familiar he didn't know how he could have NOT recognized him.

He tried to deny it with a shaking of his head, but that never works.

Sam let the kid be, moving away from him.

_Dean was no kid. Dean was his big brother. Dean. Was. His. Big. Brother._

"Daddy... no. I... didn't mean it... please... No! Sammy...." Sam tensed while listening to the kid weep silently, not completely aware but not completely under either.

He didn't understand. _What happened? This couldn't be Dean? How __did__ he change into a little kid? _

Getting his cell-phone out of his pocket, looking at the display he read "_No signal"_.

Sighing again, he pushed himself to his feet, looking around for the room's phone.

Grabbing the receiver he dialled and waited.

"Yeah?" the gruff voice on the other end answered.

"Bobby? Bobby! Hey, listen it's..."

"Who the hell are you?!" the voice cut him off.

"It's me... Sam... see, I have..."

"Listen, you little bugger. Do you know what time it is? I don't know no Sam's. And now, make it like a tree... and leave me the hell alone!" and he hung up.

Sam stared at the receiver, disbelievingly.

"Sammy? Dean!"

At the soft voice Sam whirled around, grabbing for the gun and took aim, looking at the man who mimicked his actions immediately. The receiver hit the desk with a loud thud and Sam flinched.

They starred at each other as seconds passed by. And Sam felt reality slip.

"Dad?" he swallowed hard, tried to control his breathing, his gun pointing to the ground, when his shaky hands suddenly didn't seem up to do their job. His dad…

John let his weapon-arm sink, a slight smile passing his features before he grew serious again, seeing the small boy on the floor.

"What happened Sam?!" his father demanded, dashing forward and crouching beside the small... Dean?!

"Dad..." Sam repeated, like repeating the name would help to comprehend what was happening at the moment.

And then, as he followed John with his eyes… the way he carefully picked Dean up from the floor, mumbling nonsense into the boy's ear, understanding finally hit him.

He was somehow… as crazy as it sounded… back in time.

"'t is okay. Sleep. I'm here. I'm here..." Sam heard John soothe. He couldn't remember a time when his father ever did this.

Sighing and with a sad smile, John got up from the side of the bed, looked at Sam, and despite the sadness in his eyes suddenly something like hope lit up.

"Sam..." John said slowly, carefully, now concentrating fully on him.

Sam wasn't listening. He was beyond reasoning right now. He felt himself freaking out, all the while his eyes darting around searching for an escape-route. Here, there, everywhere but not to the man… his father… in front of him. _Whatever happened, it couldn't be, it just couldn't be..._he felt like being trapped in a very vivid, grotesque and absurd nightmare. But whenever his eyes stopped their wandering to rest on Dean... the child on the bed... his heart started to ache.

"Sammy..." John stepped forward but stopped only two steps away, trying to grab hold of the eyes that darted between everything in the room but him.

"Sam... I need help. Someone I can trust. Dean needs help - your help. So, please…"

John looked back at the bed.

And there it was. One word, his dad didn't use. And that scared Sam even more then the slowly settling feeling that his dad must have used a mighty spell to get him back in time; back into the past.

His eyes slowly stopped on his father's much younger face, but he couldn't suppress the flinch when his dad's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Please. If we don't find a way to help him, he'll die."

to be continued...

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Thanks for reading!


	3. It begins

Hi all!

Thanks for your reviews! **Romi**, my girl! **Happy Birthday!** I don't know how I would be able to reach you in time... so! And for your birthday a nice and long chapter. Well, longer then my usual chapters at least ;)

At all: Enjoy!

* * *

_Before:_

_His eyes slowly stopped on his father's much younger face, but he couldn't suppress the flinch when his dad's hand came to rest on his shoulder.  
"Please. If we don't find a way to help him, he'll die."_

* * *

His dad's confession was like a slap to Sam's face.

The silence in the room was deafening after those words, although it was almost impossible for Sam to hear, because of the voices screaming in his head, that this wasn't true. _Dean __didn't__ die; his dad had to be wrong, because Sam came from a future with Dean in it. So his dad was wrong. He had to be…he just had to be... or was it just him being here in the first place that allowed him to have his brother back in his time? _

Thinking about it, made him dizzy.

Sam could feel a hysteric laugh bubble from the back of his throat, but the small whimper from the bed stopped him. And with it, the whimper brought the decision, Sam already knew he made.

"I'll help. But I have to know what happened."

...

John didn't answer, vanishing in the bathroom instead. Sam could hear him tamper with something in there, then the water started to run and just as Sam was about to ask, his father reappeared with a wet towel, and started to wipe Dean's face down, then folding the cloth, he put it on the boy's forehead.

"I... was gone for two days. It was over a weekend. I... had a hunt. Dean has done this before. He... he knows what to do. He... knows." John stopped for a moment and looked at Sam, as if asking for reassurance. But Sam's face held no such emotion, so John continued.

"Anyways. On the first evening, right before I headed out Missouri called me. She was frantic, almost hysterical. She told me I had to get back to you. That something bad would happen, if I don't hurry... and... I... I just left."

_SPNSPN_

_John's heart was thud__ding hard against his sternum __when__ he stopped the car in front of their recent motel room. _

_He __had __never felt like this… he was used to __being__ in control. This, this was new. A relative stranger calling him, close to hysterics, telling him something would happen to his sons. That he had to hurry. That he had to __save__ them. _

_Killing the engine, John jumped out of the car with a swift movement, grabbing for his shotgun while doing so. _

_He hurried down the corridor, stopping in front of their room. The door was closed and everything inside seemed to be quiet. _

_He knew Dean had laid salt-lines. Dean knew the drill. Dean had learned to be in control of everything from him. _

_Turning the key in the lock, he pushed __the door open__… and sucked in a deep breath. _

_The little room was wasted and a strange smell seemed __to __cling__ in the air; sweet and sticky. He knew the smell. It was the smell of death and decay, __but it was __accompanied by the stink of sulphur __as well__. _

_Entering the little room he could hear the faint crying and rushed forward, forgetting every precaution. _

_With a flick of his wrist he unlocked the bathroom door and pushed it open at the same time, ignoring the thick line of salt lying in front of it. _

_The room was dark and it didn't smell of death as the main-room. T__urning on the lights, he got a __small wail from the far corner, just beside the toilet. _

_John rushed forward, and grabbed his baby-boy out of the corner of the bathroom. _

"_Daddy…" the small boy breathed against his neck __when__ he scooped him up._

"_Sammy…" he could feel the tremble running through the small boy and his hands tightened his embrace, feeling the small arms of the boy wrap around his neck. _

"_Shhh… 's okay. Calm down. Daddy's here… shhh…" he soothed, __searching the room with his eyes__._

_Getting to his feet, he carried the boy out of the small bathroom, still soothing. _

_Dean wasn't in the bath__room. So…_

_Back in the main room he felt the smell __assaulting__ his senses, double. _

_His breath stopped __when__ he saw __a__ socked foot sticking out from under one of the beds. _

"_Dean…" his voice __was __nothing more then a whisper, __when __he gently forced Sammy's grip open and placed him carefully on the armchair so __that__ he could go on his knees. _

_The smell… please, don't let it be true… please don't let it be true… _

_Touching__ the foot he could feel the slight tremble of __muscles. The air he had held in his lungs for so long, rushed out of his nose and __bending further he slowly pulled his oldest son out from under the bed. _

_Dean was deathly pale and John could hear the hitching in his breath, while Dean's heartbeat was almost __painfully fast__ under his hands. _

"_Dean…" he cradled his son on his lap, gently trying to rouse him. He recognized the sweet and sticky smell emanating from Dean, __like__ he'd lain in a puddle of rotten flesh and swallowed hard not to gag. _

_So far, he couldn't see Dean being hurt anywhere. _

"_Dean… buddy. C'mon! Open your eyes." _

_It seemed __like__ an eternity, but finally Dean's eyelids __fluttered open._

_He was greeted __with __confused and disoriented eyes, looking at him and at the same time thru him. Then, suddenly, as if he recognized where he was a lurch went through his son's frame and before he could do anything, Dean was out of his arms, __crouching__ on the floor __retching__ violently. _

_John got back on his knees, resting a soothing hand on the small of his son's back, almost withdrawing in an answer to Dean's flinch. His other hand slipped under Dean's body supporting him while he heaved. But __as soon as__ he felt the shaking getting stronger he knew something definitely wasn't right. _

"_Dean? DEAN!" …_

...

"I did what she asked me to do. I left the hunt. But it was too late. Dean's condition didn't get better. And a few nights after that… You saw the scratches? He... he gets new ones almost every night now. I... I have laid salt lines, nothing supernatural can get in this room. But more and more marks appear, every time he goes to sleep. And the smell. It's back. Every morning I can smell the rotten flesh. And... he's fading. Sam, Dean is fading so fast. It's like sand running through my fingers. I..."

John stopped and looked at the small body that was Dean, lying unconscious on the bed.

"Missouri told me that I'd need help for this, that I can't do it alone. I told her that there isn't anyone I can trust, trust enough to lay the life of my child into their hands. But she just smiled and told me, that that isn't true…"

...

"So, Missouri told you she would help?"

"Yes. She... she told me she'd help. She told me that Dean would need his brother. She felt it. But I couldn't let Sammy stay. I had to take him somewhere safe. So, the next thing I did was calling Pastor Jim." John stopped his explanation and took a swig from the bottle of beer he got himself.

"At first I didn't understand what she was talking about. But Dean... he, he freaked out when he woke up and Sammy wasn't here. I tried to explain, told him that he's sick… that Sammy would catch it... He wasn't reasonable. After that, I think he got even sicker."

"What about the scratches? Dean isn't stupid. Don't you think he'd sense..." Sam started, but John cut him off.

"He….he doesn't seem to notice anything. He sleeps most of the time, the fever going up and down; delirious dreams... he didn't notice Sam was gone for almost a day. And moments when he's lucid……are getting shorter and fewer."

"Daddy..." the breathed word stopped John. He sat on the chair for a moment, rigid. Then he bolted with an uttered: "I'm sorry…" leaving the room before Sam could stop him.

Sam stood there, frozen for a moment, but a small choked sob made him turn around. He walked slowly to Dean's bedside.

"Daddy..." Dean was still asleep, his hair plastered on his head from sweat and the wet towel. Sam could feel the despair hanging in the room, almost bodily.

He had never felt it like this before, nor had he ever seen his father run from anything like this before either.

It was almost as if the room itself was pouring despair from its walls, floors and furniture.

"Sammy..." the small boy whimpered and Sam couldn't deny him comfort.

This was his brother. His brother who'd laced his shoes, taken care of him when he was sick, cleaned his scraped knees and spent solace when he cried.

Sitting down on the bed he took away the wet warmed up towel, grabbed the boy gently under his armpits and scooped him up.

He ignored the heat radiating from the small boy, letting him rest his head on his shoulder as he stood up and walked around the room. For a moment he walked in silence, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat when the little boy wrapped his arms around his neck to hold on tightly.

"'s okay... I'm here now. Sam's here. Don't worry. You just have to get better, okay? Shhh... 'm here." He whispered, feeling the despair creeping into his mind and soul.

to be continued...

* * *

Well? What do you think? Liked it? Hated it? Let me know!


	4. unkown monsters

Hey guys!

Thanks for all the nice reviews. 't is great to hear you like it so far. I promise it will not be the last "aww"... well I'll try to give my best to provide more of them ;)

What I didn't mention, but what all of you probably know or guess: I don't own them. But the idea of the story was mine *gg* If you have anything in mind let me know! Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

_Before:_

_For a moment he walked in silence, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat when the little boy wrapped his arms around his neck to hold on tightly._

_"'s okay... I'm here now. Sam's here. Don't worry. You just have to get better, okay? Shhh... 'm here." He whispered, feeling the despair creeping into his mind and soul. _

* * *

_Images... quick flashes of... movement. It assaulted his senses... no him! He could feel her around him, could hear__ her whispers, could taste her, __as__she__ left her traces when she touched him. He flinched __when__ she cut into him and felt her tongue as she fed on him. She'd eat him alive. He knew no one would hinder her. He was lost. He could feel his strength wane. Lost... no one knew he was still here... no one knew... Dad..._

...

Sam jolted awake. It took him a moment to realize that it was only a dream. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted the weight on his lap, looking down to see Dean still asleep.

It seemed that the fever broke during the night, because the little boy wasn't as warm as before.

Sam straightened in the armchair he had chosen to sleep in after carrying his brother through the room for more then half an hour. His mind started to replay what happened last night.

He was pretty sure of one thing, even though all the rest seemed a little fuzzy at the moment. Missouri had sent them to this old motel back in their time just so that she or his dad could bring Sam to his brother in this time.

He remembered John saying that Missouri knew Dean needed his brother. But did Dean really need him? Adult-Sam? What for? What could he do for Dean that John couldn't?

_Not leaving him, for __one__._ A snarl formed on his face.

It seemed to be early in the morning, dawn already and John still hadn't returned. Shaking his head in anger, Sam slowly pushed himself up and felt Dean tighten his grip in his sleep.

He smiled at the clasp reflex, carried the small boy over to his bed and gently laid him down on the soft covers.

The moment he straightened up, the world shifted on its axis and he stumbled backwards. His attempt to take a deep breath almost made him gag. His senses were suddenly assaulted by a disgusting, sweet-sticky smell creeping into his nostrils. He fell on his backside; his first thought was to scramble backwards and away from the smell.

But the loud yell coming from the bed stopped him and made him move forward.

He could feel the despair again, it was like it was hidden while he was asleep, but now when he was awake…it was out in the open. He was its prey. It was trying to seek out a weak spot in his amour to get inside, pulling on his arms, legs, clothes.

He tried to force himself forward but stopped dead when he saw his brother's young face.

Dean's eyes were wide and staring, a new scratch running along his jaw-line, blood oozing from there, drenching the pillow and the brim of Dean's shirt.

And then, without warning his head split in two and he fell on his knees, slumped forward, head resting on his forearms while he rid out the intenseness of his vision.

...

_It was late and he knew he should be asleep. Dean would__be really__ mad at him. But somehow, he just couldn't. He didn't know why. It was impossible to lie still __so__ he tossed and turned __and __eventually __sat up. He __jumped__ down __from __the bed and looked over to the couch where his brother sat, slumped. He could see Dean was asleep, the TV running with its sound muted. _

_Sam padded over to his brother, gently tapping on his shoulders and looked at him expectantly as he startled awake. _

"_Sammy?" the older boy asked, yawning. _

"_Can't you go to sleep?" Sam asked his voice pleading and then he added hopefully__: __"Maybe in my bed?"_

_He saw his older brother raise an eyebrow at that. _

_Before Dean could answer__ however, something smashed against the door from __the__ outside. _

_Sam could see Dean __jump__ on his feet in an instant, placing himself between his little brother and the door._

_Another hard punch __and__ the door __rattled __on__ its hinges. __Sam__ grabbed his brother's shirt receiving a reassuring look in return. _

_A moment later the door gave __way __with__ the force of the third blow and he could see Dean straightening __staring__ up at the person standing on the other side of the now broken door. _

"_Howdy!" the strange man said, a bad smell wavering off him in waves and Sammy flinched as the man's eyes turned a dirty shade of yellow. _

"_Tell your dad hi from me, will ya Dean?" the man continued chipper, __like he__ was an old friend of the family. _

"_Y-you... you can't get in here..." Sam could hear his brother utter timidly. _

"_I could, if I really __wanted to__." the man with the yellow eyes said. _

"_But, I'm kinda in a hurry. I brought __someone here__ to play. And she sure wants to meet you guys..." _

_The demon __dragged his feet through the salt-line and __waved__ to someone behind him. _

_Everything started to get blurry then. Sam only got one short glimpse at the old woman,__ that suddenly appeared__ in the doorway._

_She was ugly. Her skin was as grey as her fine, scruffy hair, and her eyes stared at them __with__ a milky-white colour. She brought a sickening sweet-sticky smell __with her__ that __almost made him__ gag, and Sam felt Dean __slowly push__ him backwards. _

_Her dirty clothes looked almost transparent and clung loosely to her haggard body. She must be a witch__! __Her__ arms raised in front of her __then__, long, spidery fingers pointing at them, with fingernails almost black and sharp as talons. __Another__ wave of the horrendous smell __made__ him swallow bitter bile. _

"_Him! You promised me… him..." her__ voice croaked, __cold and devoid __of__ any __emotions__. __Her__ jaw snapped open, revealing a deep, dark hole, no teeth left __when__ she __stepped__ forward, slouching and scuffling. _

_Her first scuffle broke the ban she held over Dean and Sam felt himself __be__ grabbed by his wrist and dragged __away__. Dean pushed him hard and merciless into the bathroom, shut the door and locked him up in there._

_Sam hammered against the door, screaming and crying in __honest-to-God __panic. He couldn't see... he couldn't see! What if the bad witch __was in the bathroom!?_

"_DEAN!!! NO! Let me out! Let me out!" he cried, bitter tears running down his cheeks, the feeling of betrayal almost __unbearable. He was throwing his small body against the door, but it__ wouldn't budge.__ Something on the other side screeched and he fell on his butt __when__ he took a hasty step backwards. He continued __to__ scramble __backwards__ until he connected with the far wall, and then along it to sit in the corner, right beside the toilet. _

_There he __was__, sobbing quietly, trying to block out the noises from outside that subsided after a short __amount of time. Quietness settled again and his small sobs were the only noise one could hear. _

_The yellow eyed demon smiled cruelly. He flicked his __wrist silently__ and... everything was as it was before... at least from the outside. Inside Despair had taken hold, poisoning__ everything…__ slowly and effectively. Feeding from her host like a Vampire. This small boy __won't resist much. __She'll __kill him. __It's__ just a matter of days. He was sure, that there were monsters even John Winchester didn't know about. _

_**to be continued...**_

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Well? Hope you liked the new chapter? Let me know what you think! ;) Really guys! *LOL*


	5. Plagues

Hey guys!

Thanks for all the lovely reviews. It's so great that you like this. I'm really beaming here ;)

at casammy: I'm sorry I can't speak spanish? But thank you for reviewing, anyways. And I hope you'll understand what is going on here. Just think four-dimensional ;)

At all the other's enjoy the new chapter! It's just to confuse you some more, before all hell breaks loose... uhh, sorry that's a different episode.

And I just want to put another reminder on darksupernatural's master-plan.  
Sammygirl1963, DancerInTheDark101, Soncnica, Blue Peanut M and M, Vonnie, V. R. Jennings, Merisha, darksupernatural and me are working hard on our first round of **Winchester Singel Oneshots**, in a sort a follow-up project on **"Moments in time"**(for all who've read that, you know it's awesome, for all who haven't GO and READ). So, soon everyone of us is gonna bring the first story online on our own profil. And from there we continue the project on darksupernatural's profile. Uhm... sorry for my nonstop-babbling. But I'm stopping right away.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Before:_

_The yellow eyed demon smiled cruelly. He flicked his __wrist silently__ and everything was as it was before... at least from the outside. Inside Despair had taken hold, poisoning__ everything…__ slowly and effectively. Feeding from her host like a Vampire. This small boy __won't resist much.__She'll __kill him. __It's__ just a matter of days. He was sure that there were monsters even John Winchester didn't know about. _

* * *

Sam came to with a gasp. Before he could push himself up, he felt warm hands on his shoulders, restricting him in the movement, pushing him down with gentle force.

Forcing his eyes open, he could see John hovering over him, concern and regret shining in his eyes.

"Slowly, tiger. Stay down for a couple of minutes." John said.

Sam looked around himself, seeing the sun peek behind the curtain, its rays lying on his chest. His back was connected with something hard and he noticed that he was still on the floor.

"What happened?" his father asked, when he pushed himself up, ignoring the helping hands. He grasped his head with his hands, moaning loudly when it started to pound in the same rhythm as his heartbeat.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath that hitched a little when the headache reached new peaks in agony with his first spoken words.

Remembering his – little brother for the moment – Sam turned around to see Dean sleeping on the bed. The new scratch to his face already treated by his father.

"How is he?" He asked suppressing another groan and swallowing down the bile gathering in his mouth.

"He's f…" before John could finish, Sam whirled around, his face set into a dark frown.

"He's not fine. He's everything BUT!" he retorted angrily.

"We… need to stop this thing. Dean can't take much more." He took a deep breath and stared at John who nodded: "I know."

"You… you… KNOW?" Sam asked, disbelieve suddenly outweighing his anger.

"Then, why the hell aren't you doing something about it! You're his father! He. He… look at him. God! Help me figure this out and don't turn away."

"I didn't turn away..." John's words where pressed out between clenched teeth, "I needed some…"

"Sammy?" they both turned their attention back to Dean, lying on the bed, bright but exhausted green eyes looking directly at them.

Smiling gently Sam got down in a crouch beside the bed.

"Hey." His voice all gentle, his anger gone.

Dean's eyes blinked.

"You're not Sammy…" he whispered, his voice quivering slightly.

"Yes and No." Sam answered, swallowing hard against the emotion but still managed to grin, seeing the confusion marring Dean's features.

"I'm a friend of your father and I'm here to help you guys out." He introduced himself instead. "And I might not be Sammy, but I'm a Sam too."

"Can you bring Sammy back?" Dean asked, eyes already drooping again.

"First… you have to get better, okay? You don't want Sammy to get sick too, right?"

"But he was here last night…" the boy mumbled, eyes closed, almost asleep already.

"That's not..." Sam replied in a whisper, couldn't stop his hand, touching the small face, feeling the soft skin as he gently stroked along Dean's cheek.

"It was him. I'd know him... always..." the little boy answered in the same tone, right before he drifted back to sleep.

SPNSPN

He took a gulp of his coffee, enjoying the warm liquid running down his throat, warming him up from the inside.

"I... was thinking things through. I had to clear my head, Sam." John's voice was tired.

"I... what I did... I mean, doing that spell, bringing you here... It was a mistake. I'm sorry. I don't know what made me do it..."

Sam almost choked on the mouthful of coffee hearing those words.

"What the..." looking up, he stopped himself from starting another fight with his father, lowering his voice.

"I'm here now, like it or not, mistake or not. And I won't turn my back on Dean, or you for that matter. I think I have a clue on what's going on here. We need to do some more research to find out what it is and how to fight it though. I remember seeing her. She was old, almost spirit-like. She had wrinkly skin, almost grey just like her hair, and the smell... God... it was this sticky-sweet, sickening smell. She's still here, and sometimes you can feel her presence. And there was a second person..."

"A demon..." John whispered.

"Not a demon. The demon. The Yellow-eyed demon." Sam answered.

"He let her loose on Dean. He wants to..."

John jumped to his feet.

"He wants to destroy the little family I've left!" he growled.

"Dad..."

"Tell me what we're dealing with." John demanded.

"He... he called her Despair..."

SPNSPN

He was walking down a corridor, a small smile tugging on his lips. So, the younger Winchester knew. He hadn't foreseen this, but it was amusing nonetheless. And when the time will be right, he will let him know that whatever he does, his efforts will be futile. It was like shuttling one piece back and forth between two mills in a game of "Nine Men's Morris". This game was his to win. Hesitating one last second he pushed open the door to one of the rooms and vanished inside.

...

Sam was running, breath coming out in hot, little gasps. He was sprinting down the street, ignoring the bewildered looks other people were giving him.

He'd been at the library for more research about Despair, which, he was almost too sure of, was one of the demonic plagues. His research however, had turned out to be futile; because every single book he opened to learn more on demonic plagues was lacking pages. Exactly the pages he needed.

First he thought it was a coincidence, but at the second book his heart had already started to beat faster. On the third he simply dropped it, whirled around and left the library with a sickening feeling in his stomach. He needed to get back!

He felt unsettled, because the outcome of his research told him one thing; someone knew. Someone knew that he knew what they were dealing with. It only confirmed his assumption that they were dealing with a demonic plague. But how to help his now 'little' brother… he had no idea.

He needed John's help to figure this one out. And he needed to warn John to be alert. If it was the Yellow-eyed-demon's doing, they needed to be prepared.

He pushed the door to the motel room open and the sight made him stagger backwards in shock.

_**To be continued...**_

* * *

Let me know what you think. Comments? Ideas? Suggestions?


	6. Escape

Hi guys,

so, you all ready for another chapter? Thanks for reviewing and that you still stick with the story.  
No talking around today. Just the new chapter. Enjoy! And as always, let me know what you think!

_

* * *

_

_Before:_

_He pushed the door to the motel room open and the sight made him stagger backwards in shock._

* * *

"Dad?" He asked, jumping forward, trying to pry John's hands from his face, to see where all the blood was coming from.

"He freaked out on me… and kicked…" came the muffled reply from his father followed by a guffaw. "This doesn't really feel like the kick of an eight-year-old…" John winced.

Sam hurried into the bathroom and came back with a towel that he pushed in his dad's free hand.

"Here… oh my god…" he stuttered staring at the curled up bundle in the far corner of the bedroom.

He carefully crouched down several feet away from Dean, watching helplessly as the child shivered violently, but didn't dare to go any further. He didn't want to scare the distraught boy even more.

"Dean?" he asked quietly, surprised to see his brother's eyes snap open at the sound of his name.

Dean's gaze was focused, he recognized his surroundings but at the same time the boy looked scared. His eyes were bright with fever and unshed tears, his hair an unruly mess and Sam felt his heart ache, defeat almost overwhelming him for a moment.

Frozen and in awe Sam knelt there watching as his brother slowly scrambled to his feet, padded over to him and before Sam could do anything, wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Dean…" he breathed, feeling the shudders, the heat and despair rippling in huge waves from the little boy. Sam wrapped his arms around the slim frame of his brother, holding him secure as he slowly stood up.

"What happened, huh? What's wrong?" he whispered into Dean's hair, but the only reply he got was Dean shaking his head.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" John asked incredulously.

Sam felt Dean's hold tighten, and he ran a hand reassuringly up and down his back, trying to ease the little boy's tensed muscles. It was like Dean was waiting for an attack… from their… dad?

...

"So. Someone tries to stop us." John was deep in thought. Sam nodded, feeling Dean on his lap shift slightly. His brother fell asleep there, after refusing to let go of him.

Sighing quietly, Sam's hand moved unconsciously over his brother's head in a soothing manner and stopping on his forehead to feel his temperature. Sam raised an eyebrow in concern.

"I think he's getting worse." he informed John, looking up to meet his dad's eyes.

John continued to stare, playing with the rim of his shirt.

"I don't know Sam... I still don't believe you'll be able to stop whatever... I... I think, it was a big mistake to bring you here..."

Sam sat up straighter, felt the air around him charge, a big wave of energy suddenly sucking all the air out of the room.

"What?" Sam asked, louder then intended, feeling Dean shift in his arms, bleary eyes peeking up at him in wonder.

"I... you're right. I mean, you told me Dean's alive in the time you came from. So... I think I handled things back here just fine. Don'cha think?"

Sam felt like someone poured ice-water down his spine, and his grip around Dean automatically tightened.

"I... I never said anything like that." he said, voice a little more then a whisper as he watched his father's lips curl up into a mean snarl.

"Well... busted!" John replied. "Give me the boy."

And before Sam could shake his head - _no way in Hell -_ and jump to his feet, he felt himself being lifted and hit the wall of the room. Hard.

He slumped over, his consciousness slipping. The terrified scream coming from Dean, however, allowed him to fight, made him stop before he would skid over the edge.

"Noo! Noo! Noo! Sammy!"

...

Sam shook his head, willing the wavering sight to settle down and saw John fight with the panic-stricken child.

"Shut up!" John threatened. He stunned the little boy with a hard blow to Dean's face.

Seeing that, Sam's vision turned red. Pure adrenaline and hatred made Sam struggle up to his feet and he rushed forward.

A pained howl echoed through the room, and smoke rose up from John's distorted face. It took Sam just a second to understand that it must have been holy water that had hit John at a point-blank range; Holy water from the small flask in the little boy's hands. John stumbled forward, blinded by the momentarily pain and fell, burying Dean underneath him.

Sam's mind returned to the scene at the motel-room earlier. Dean sitting scared in the corner, his dad's bloody nose... it all made much more sense suddenly. He didn't know how Dean knew what to do, nor how he could have known about John being possessed. He just knew that his little brother had managed to somehow grab a flask of holy water and toss it at their possessed father.

As John started to move again Sam spurred into action. He scooped Dean up with his hands, hoisting him out from under their dad.

Dean shrieked when John's hand wrapped around his ankle, and Sam didn't waste any time; he kicked at his dad's arm, earning another pained grunt from the man on the floor.

"Sammy..." he could hear the little boy in his arms whisper. Dean's arms wrapped themselves around his neck, squeezing hard. He needed to bring Dean out of here. Fast. Without thinking he whirled around and fled the room.

He could hear John scream behind them. And it was more an enraged screech of fury then a pain filled outcry.

But Sam was already out of the room and trying to break into the first car. No luck there, he swallowed a few expletives and tried a second and then a third car, almost sighing in relief when the door just opened. He hoisted himself and his brother in his arms into it.

Sam's relief was short lived when at that exact moment a shot rang out, making him duck and expand the movement to rip out the cables of the car to hot-wire it as fast as possible.

He shot an eye to the motel room and let go of one of the cables in panic, when he saw John step down the few steps, gun in hand, walking almost nonchalantly over to them, oblivious to all the "normal" people on the street.

Sam's eyes closed in distress when he was trying, for the fourth time, to start the car and when it finally sputtered to life, he sighed.

Not caring about anything, he put his whole weight on the accelerator-paddle and felt the car fish-tail for a moment as it sped forward.

He kept his eyes trained on the rear-view-mirror and only relaxed, when they finally had left town.

Looking over to Dean on his right side, he gave the boy a small smile.

"You okay?" he asked.

Dean used the palm of his right hand to run it over his face, beginning at his chin, going to his mouth, over his nose, sniffling with the movement. He nodded quietly, his eyes darting to Sam looking at him curiously for a moment.

Sam could see Dean shiver in his pyjama-bottoms and T-shirt, so he shrugged out of his coat, driving one-handed and held it out to Dean.

"Here, twerp..." he said, grinning at the use of the word. "It'll keep you warm a little. We'll be on the road for a couple of hours."

For a moment Dean seemed to think about arguing, but then his little hands grabbed the coat and Sam smiled seeing Dean wrapping himself clumsily in it.

**... to be continued...**

* * *

Yeah well, that was... uhm... tense. Hope you enjoyed the read. I really enjoyed writing it ;)


	7. Crashed

Hi guys,

thanks again for your awesome reviews, you're the best.

casammy: Thank you girl! I really love the reviews... and although I don't get all you're saying I translate them and... I totally agree with you on the dad-issue! ;)

Well, more "awww" ahead, I guess. I really am totally in love with Sam in this chapter... let me know how you think about it, key? - Enjoy!

* * *

_Before:_

_Sam could see Dean shiver in his pyjama-bottoms and T-shirt, so he shrugged out of his coat, driving one-handed and held it out to Dean. _

"_Here, twerp..." he said, grinning at the use of the word. "It'll keep you warm a little. We'll be on the road for a couple of hours." _

_For a moment Dean seemed to think about arguing, but then his little hands grabbed the coat and Sam smiled seeing Dean wrapping himself clumsily in it. _

* * *

It was after midnight when Sam stopped the car. He was dead on his feet by then; with only a few hours of sleep the night before. He checked on his brother, before slipping out of the car to get them a room for the night.

Dean didn't even stir when Sam carried the boy inside, locking the room and settling Dean on the bed farthest from the door. He knew he needed to bring down the fever that was raging in the small body so he dragged himself to the bathroom, wet one of the towels and returned to Dean's bedside. Although Dean had slept almost the whole time they had been on the road, his sleep had been fitful, caused by his illness.

Sam slowly plopped down on the mattress, gently cleaning Dean's sweaty face and when he was finished, he placed the towel on the boy's forehead.

He didn't have enough energy to get up again so he curled up beside Dean, not caring that he was still fully dressed. He didn't even notice when he dozed off.

...

"_Help me!" __Sam__ looked dizzily at the feature in front of him that__ slowly__ morphed from the face of a small child into the face of his brother, and back again. _

"_Help me!" the voice of his brother begged. "Help me..." _

_---_

Sam woke up from his nightmare with a start, disoriented for a moment, his eyes coming to a rest on the face of the sleeping boy beside him. Sam was about to close his eyes again, when he suddenly jerked awake completely.

"Shit!" he sat up, awareness slamming into him. He jumped to his feet and pulled back the covers he tucked Dean in earlier.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Dean! Dean! Wake up!" he tried to gently rouse the boy, but Dean remained silent and unresponsive.

"Dean!" he tapped his brother's face, his attempts growing more frantic when he felt the heat.

"Shit! C'mon! Don't do this! Just….don't do this!"

Dean's fever had become worse over the last – Sam glanced at his watch – hour? _I only slept an __hour? _

A small hitching breath brought his attention back to the bundle on the bed. He lifted the little body off of the bed; one hand behind Dean's back, one underneath his knees and swallowed when Dean's head tilted backwards. Every muscle in his body lax.

He carefully carried his burden to the little bathroom, kicking the door fully open with one foot and stood there, completely helpless for a moment.

He needed to bring the fever down as soon as possible. He eased Dean gently into the bathtub, hearing the odd hitching in the little boy's breathing again.

When he put the plug into the tub his cell-phone started ringing.

Stopping, he pushed himself up and fished his phone out of his jeans-pocket. _He didn't have time for this... _

"Yeah!" he answered the call briskly.

"Hi Sam! How's it goin'?" a chipper voice asked him. Air whooshed out of Sam's lungs, his heart started to race and cold dread settled in his very being.

"You know? Right now? I'd really be scared if I was you." The voice continued and Sam started gagging on the sweet-sticky smell of decay.

Before he knew what was happening to him, he felt an invisible force flung him backwards and out of the bathroom. He skidded a few meters, and stopped there, stunned by the hard blow he received, waiting for his breath to return to him.

The loud bang of the bathroom door closing spurred him into action.

Adrenaline rushed through Sam's veins, when he pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling over to the now closed door. He tried to open it, but the door had no intention to give way.

"Dean!" he knocked on the door, rattling it. "Dean!" his voice cracking.

Sam's panic built up when he tried to break through the locked door, feeling his shoulder bruise as he shoved into it. But the door still didn't budge.

Dean's scream coming from inside the bathroom, stopped Sam on his track. He rested his head on the door and swallowed down the black despair that tried to drown him. One breath later and he shook off the feeling and doubled his effort and the fierceness to open the locked door. It seemed to take him forever, but finally it gave way and crashed open. Silence and a low gurgling noise greeted him when he stumbled into the room.

SPNSPN

Dean wasn't feeling so good. He was cold. He felt his body shake, but at the same time sweat was running down his neck and forehead, tickling him on its way. He had some trouble opening his eyes and when he did open them he closed them again, blinking groggily. His foggy brain needed some time to understand the fact that he was situated in a bathtub, with no one around.

_Why __am I__ in a bathtub?_

His muscles hurt when he tried to sit up some more. Taking a hitching breath, he tried to call out for his Dad. But no sound made past his lips. He couldn't remember what happened these last few hours. Looking down at himself, he felt panic rise, when he saw the blood on the front of his T-shirt.

Then, as if on cue his senses came back completely and he started to retch when the sickening sweet-sticky smell assaulted is taste-buds.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he continued to heave, feeling his hold on the rim of the bathtub slip.

He could hear a loud bang coming from somewhere in the distance and suddenly, just as he slipped back in the bathtub, starting to choke on the bile that still filled his mouth and throat, large but gentle hands grabbed him, pulling him upright and he felt the vomit running down his chin, clearing his airways.

Air was burbling down his throat and he felt hot tears on his cheeks.

It hurt so much.

The hands kept him upright as a wet towel appeared from somewhere, wiping his face.

Slowly, the buzzing in his ears retreated and he could hear a gentle voice, speaking to him softly, soothing.

Dean's strength seemed to leave him, when he was picked up and nestled against a warm body. His arms wrapped themselves around his saviour's neck, and he felt the breath of the man shudder. Then warm arms held him tight.

...

He could feel movement; his eyes closed, his head resting on the man's shoulder.

A cold breeze made him shiver, but only for a moment, before the man who carried him sat down. He found some strength to lift his head, looking at the man's profile, and then sagged against him again, feeling a reassuring hand going up and down his back.

"Just hold on. Everything's gonna be okay Dean. Just hold on!"

An engine was gunned and he could feel being moved again, the hand however remaining on his back, supporting him. The voice continued to speak in a slow, gentle, reassuring cadence, never wavering in strength.

**... to be continued...**

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	8. Tending moments

Hey folks!

Thanks for the reviews – again! I'm really appreciating it. And this part was a real pain-in-the-ass... so I wanna say thank you to **Soncnica** for helping me out - I just have to say "Pronto" babe! :D

I don't gonna babble, just give you the next part, so enjoy it!

* * *

_Before:_

_"Just hold on. Everything's gonna be okay Dean. Just hold on!"_

_An engine was gunned and he could feel being moved again, the hand however remaining on his back, supporting him. The voice continued to speak in a slow, gentle, reassuring cadence, never wavering in strength._

* * *

Dr. Ridge Sotto was on duty. It was a slow night, and he just headed out the door to grab a cup of coffee from the small shop just down the street when he saw a young man with a child, who was limply nestled in the man's arms.

Pushing the door open, he waited for the young man to catch up.

One look at the kid and he shouted out orders to his assistant.

"Becky! I need you here!" he yelled, grabbing the man's upper arm, dragging him toward an examination-room. "What happened!?" he demanded, voice harsher then intended and saw the young man flinch, guilt washing over his features.

"I… He… I… it was a dog. He… I don't know. Everything happened so fast…" looking into the man's eyes Sotto knew he wasn't telling him everything. But right now he didn't have time for further inquiries.

"Put him down here!" Sotto told the man and watched him comply.

The boy, however didn't seem to want to let go of the man carrying him, in fact the little boy seemed to tighten his hold on the man's neck.

"Dean…" he could hear the voice go gentle, as the man tried to pry the hands from around his neck.

"C'mon, buddy. He can help you…" despair swung in those words.

"Daddy…" the voice of the boy was a mere whimper. "Daddy…"

"Shhhh! C'mon… let go! I'm here… I'll stay…"

"Daddy..." the little boy reluctantly let go of the man.

Sotto drew in a sharp breath, when he saw blood on the man and the boy.

"You hurt too?" he asked and watched the man shake his head.

Taking the scissors, he cut open the little boy's shirt. The man stopped his reassuring movements through the boy's hair and gasped.

"Oh my..."

"Becky!" Sotto called, waiting for her to appear.

"Please, bring Mr...." he waited for Sam to offer him his name "Anderson..." Sam supplied distractedly, his eyes resting on his small brother.

"Please bring Mr. Anderson outside."

"No!" Sam's attention turned to the doctor.

"Sir..."

"I'm not leaving him." Sam said.

"Sir... I need to examine him thoroughly. It's best when you wait outside." the Doctor said, his eyebrows rising up slightly.

Before Sam could object again he felt Becky's hands on his arms, trying to stir him away.

As soon as his hands lost the contact with Dean however, his sibling started to scream.

"No! No! NO! Daddy!"

...

Sam broke free of the nurses' grip and was back at Dean's side, before Dean could start screaming again. He could hear his brother's breath rasp in and out and as soon as he touched Dean, the boy's hands shot up and wrapped around his wrist.

Dean's breath was getting even more frantic and Sam could feel the panic radiating off the child.

Lost for a second, he grabbed Dean's small hand; he put it on his chest, just above his heart and bent forward. His forehead almost touched Dean's while his hand started to go through his brother's hair and his voice started to soothe.

"Calm down, Dean. 'm not going. 'm here, 'kay? Feel me breathe? Yeah?! Just breathe with me, 'kay? In and out... slower... that's it. Great buddy..."

It seemed to take forever before he could straighten up again, his eyes resting on the Doctor with a hard glare.

"I. Am. Not. Leaving." He said dangerously and saw the man nod.

Sam saw the doctor glance nervously at the nurse, but for now, he ignored the look both shared.

He continued to stroke through Dean's hair as the doctor examined the wounds on his brother's chest. Dean didn't make a sound while the doctor tended to the claw-marks, but Sam felt his grip tighten every time a scratch was cleaned. Dean's gaze was still unfocused, his eyes darting through the room, resting on Sam's face for a few seconds and then going around the room again.

"It's superficial, although a couple of these marks are almost deep enough to need stitches.

He's running a fever. I'm gonna give him something for that. You need to keep him hydrated. And, when was the last time he ate something?" The doctor asked, his voice serious, concerned and... Sam couldn't pin-point exactly what the strange feeling he got was, when those words were spoken. There was another tone swinging in the old man's voice when he said those words. The doctor finished his task and got rid off his latex gloves with a snapping sound.

Sam felt Dean flinch at the sound.

"He... he was totally unresponsive a while back. I couldn't wake him. When he did wake up he started vomiting… He's been sick for several days…" the moment the words flew out of his mouth, Sam stopped himself, noticing that this, all of this, was a huge mistake.

"Sir... you sure you're up to taking care of the child? He's sick, hurt, dehydrated, malnourished… and those marks… one could think he's been…"

Sam's mouth plopped open at the doctors' presumption. "What? What could ONE think?" Sam suddenly found himself taking a defensive stand.

"Whatever happened, Sir… I think you're not able to deal with it on your own. I think that maybe it would be best if I go outside and call…"

"NO!" Sam roared. "No cops! No authorities..." he craned his neck and searched for the nurse.

When he saw that she had left the room, he suddenly knew what the look they both shared before, meant. He knew what she was about to do.

Letting go of Dean, he whirled around, following her in a hurry.

_I can't __let__ that happen. No! No way!_

_---_

He found her standing outside by the reception, her hand on the phone.

His heart thumped hard against his ribcage when he pulled out his gun, levering it at her face.

"Put it down." he sneered.

He saw her stop breathing altogether as she froze.

"Put it down!" he screamed at her, seeing her flinch and following his orders.

"Move." he whispered, his voice gravely.

The nurse walked back to the examining room snail slow. The Doctor stared at Sam in shock, when he waved her over to stay right beside him.

Dean was staring wide eyed into the room and Sam hurried back to his side.

He needed to get them both out of here.

"On the floor." Sam said, pointing the gun to the floor, waiting for the couple to comply.

"Hands behind your neck, where I can see them, spread your legs and keep your foreheads on the floor. NOW!" He ordered.

When he was sure they did as asked, he put the gun on the examining table, and pulled first his Over-shirt and then his T-shirt off of him. He gently pulled Dean into a sitting position, and helped him slip into the offered piece of clothe carefully, then he slipped into his Over-shirt again.

Dean's eyes were dull, but more focused since forever, Sam thought.

Huge eyes met his when he looked down at the small child that was his big brother. He smiled down at Dean, as he picked him up, feeling the small arms go around his neck immediately.

He walked backwards, to keep an eye on the Doctor and his nurse.

Outside the room, he closed the door, and pushed a chair under the door knob. That won't keep them in forever, but long enough to have a head start.

He didn't look back; he just turned around and headed for the door.

"Sammy..." when a frightened voice near his ear whispered, the lights of the corridor started to flicker. Sam stopped and looked up, flinching as the first lamp exploded behind him. He started to run, feeling Dean's hold on his tighten. He wrapped one arm around the small body he carried and with the other he took hold of Dean's head and gently pushed the face toward his chest.

His heart thumped hard against his ribcage as he pushed the door open. He heard the door of the room where he locked in the Doctor and the nurse, open with a bang.

Then he was out of the building and running down the deserted street, making wide steps and stopping at the car he'd stolen he slipped behind the wheel.

A few minutes later they had left the small town.

... to be continued...

* * *

_Suggestions? Comments? Ideas? Criticism? Thanks for reading and let me know! _


	9. The Enemy shows

Hey all!

Thank you all for the kind words and I was sooooo beaming at your review **FLD**. It really made my day!

Just enjoy the new chapter... and let me know what you think! Hugs to ya all!!!

* * *

_Before:_

_Huge eyes met his when he looked down at the small child that was his big brother. He smiled down at Dean, as he picked him up, feeling the small arms go around his neck immediately. _

_He walked backwards, to keep an eye on the Doctor and his nurse. _

_Outside the room, he closed the door, and pushed a chair under the door knob. That won't keep them in forever, but long enough to have a head start. _

_He didn't look back; he just turned around and headed for the door. _

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was that he was soaked and cold. He felt deadly tired, sore, somehow dead and used.

He drifted for a while, not able to come to his senses. But when the shivers grew too heavy to ignore he opened his eyes. He panicked for a moment, because all he could see was darkness. The only thing that he understood was that he was lying on his side, with his arm draped over his face. _Dumbass!_ he scolded himself and dragged the limb away.

The world danced in front of his eyes and he felt himself swallowing on the onslaught of nausea. In through the nose, out through the mouth. That's it.

Gently, he pushed himself in a sitting position, waiting for the world to stop spinning and looked around.

He was on the ground beside a dumpster of a filthy back alley, his clothes drenched, as the rain continued to fall from heavy clouds. Beside him he could see a knife, sticky blood on the blade and the hilt.

At seeing the blood memories came back in a rush, only snippets but so vivid it left him breathless. Dean in his arms! Screaming! His gut churned as he remembered how it had made him want to hurt him. How his hand struck him hard in the face... And there was Sam, the older Sam he had brought back for help. Help against… he could feel the sticky-sweet smell clung to him and looked down, seeing his wet clothes drenched in blood too. Horror wrapped its claws around him as he tried to come up with whose blood that was. But all he drew up was a blank. Oh god! Please… stumbling to his feet, he almost nose dived on the hard pavement when another memory hit him…

…

Sam was beyond exhausted. Their escape from the clinic left a bitter taste in his mouth and he just wanted to forget about that.

Right now, he was stopping for gas and luckily found a dark-blue hoodie, as well as fitting sweat pants in the adjoining souvenir shop, so he could finally get rid of Dean's pyjama-bottoms and the too large shirt.

He hadn't been gone for longer then five minutes, when suddenly someone tugged on his coat.

Turning around he saw Dean standing there and clad in Sam's over-large shirt he seemed even smaller. Sam took a look around the gas station, but seeing that he was the only customer at that time of night, he relaxed slightly and crouched down in front of the boy. "Dean… I thought you were sleeping." He said with a small sigh.

The little boy shrugged and Sam felt a small smile starting to tug on his lips. It was too adorable. The next words Dean said however, wiped the smile off his face.

"It smells there… and I didn't want to throw up, because it sucks…" he said, shuddering when he remembered the ordeal in the bathroom.

"It smells?" Sam asked back and saw his brother nod.

"It didn't help, because it smells in here, too." At Dean's words Sam noticed the faint sticky-sweet smell of rotting flesh. Swallowing, he took Dean's hand in his and walked them over to the counter.

"You hungry?" he looked down at his brother, his eyebrows raising up as he took one bag of peanut-M&M's and added it to the pile on the counter. Seeing the small face lit up at that, he grinned.

"You not gonna get candies before you had some real food, deal?" a small, pain filled gasp was all he got in reply. Dean's hand slipped out of his as he bent forward, and Sam hurried to get on his knees, his arm sneaking around Dean's shoulder when he heard Dean's gasp turn into wet wheezes and Sam's senses were assaulted with another huge wave of the disgusting sticky-sweet smell.

Feeling Dean's body start to tremble, he steadied him for a moment to get a better hold on him and then hoisted him up.

A small cry was his answer.

"Sorry…" he whispered, turning to see the cashier look at them curiously.

"He's sick and… puked on his shirt. So… do you mind?" Sam nodded towards the few items he had on the counter.

The man nodded quietly and said in a sympathetic voice: "There's a bathroom back there… if you wanna change…"

Sam nodded his thanks and left, the smell emanating from Dean almost making him gag.

…

Dean swayed dangerously when Sam put him down on the vanity in the men's bathroom. He held him upright with his own body, while peeling his own shirt from the thin frame of his brother. Running his hands along his brother's torso, feeling the ribs underneath his hands, he could swear Dean lost weight since they left the clinic.

"Dean?" the stench was almost unbearable and he could feel Dean's body slumping forward and into him.

"Dean!" his yell was drowned out by a screech and something hitting him square across the chest, making him fly backwards, hitting the sharp edge of one of the stalls.

Pain flared up in his back and he went down with a groan.

He blinked heavily as dark spots danced in front of his vision, trying to stay conscious. When his sight finally came back, he saw Dean landing on the floor in a heap. Horror overcame him, when he saw the figure hovering over his brother.

He struggled to get to his hands and knees, feeling blood running down his side, tickling his belly, but a hiss from the figure made him stop.

She had noticed him and her milky-white eyes bore into him, daring him, yet freezing him at the same time.

"Mine!" she hissed and Sam could see her fingers run over Dean's skin greedily.

"Leave… him… alone!" Sam forced out between clenched teeth.

... to be continued...

* * *

I don't know... sometimes I'm possessed and I just have to do an evil cliffhanger... sorry for stopping right now ;) - and thanks for reading and reviewing!!!


	10. Feeding

Hey all!

Sorry to leave you hanging for a while... but you know how it is. And it's not getting better ;)

Some maybe hope Sam is gonna shoot the bitch, throw toilet-paper at her... but, well... to be honest: **Where would be the fun in that???**

Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

_Before:_

_Pain flared up in his back and he went down with a groan._

_He blinked heavily as dark spots danced in front of his vision, trying to stay conscious. When his sight finally came back, he saw Dean landing on the floor in a heap. Horror overcame him, when he saw the figure hovering over his brother._

_He struggled to get to his hands and knees, feeling blood running down his side, tickling his belly, but a hiss from the figure made him stop. _

_She noticed him and her milky-white eyes bore into him, daring him, freezing him. _

"_Mine!" she hissed and Sam could see her fingers run over Dean's skin greedily. _

"_Leave… him… alone!" Sam forced out between clenched teeth. _

* * *

Some invisible force hit him again, making him slide along the floor and he collapsed when he felt himself be drained of his strength.

He saw her attention turn back to Dean, who was lying deathly still on the floor and swallowed down the bile as her stench tainted the room.

He lay there helplessly, seeing her skinny, skeleton-like fingers bent, running along the tender skin of Dean's belly and soon enough blood started to flow freely.

Sam's fight against the nausea was lost and he vomited, as he watched her bend forward, licking off the blood and then, she greedily started to still her hunger.

It seemed to go on like that for hours, when in reality it was only minutes, with Sam having to watch her feed on his brother. When she finished, she turned back to him, her lips red with blood and she smiled.

"Soon…" she whispered, her eyes lit up with an eerie glow. Sam tried to move when she started to advance on him, but all of his bones and muscles seemed to be frozen.

"Son of a bitch!" he grinded out, bucking against the invisible bounds that held him, gagging on the now palpable smell of decay.

She slowly bent down, her long, spidery fingers connecting with his face and she stopped, her face distorting as if touching him hurt.

"No!" she shrieked, her fingers pulling back, like his skin was burning her.

"No!" she repeated and stood, backing away.

Her touch seemed to break the spell she put on him, and Sam fought to his feet with a groan.

"NO!" her last screech made him stumble backwards when he was hit again with the strange force. Wind started to rise in the small bathroom and Sam stared on in horror as her figure turned nebulously, hovering over his brother for a moment, then, with a swirling movement it wrapped around Dean and stayed there for a second before vanishing.

Before Sam had a chance to get over his shock, Dean started to choke.

**SPNSPN**

For all of his life he'd been cautious around strangers, had never allowed anyone to touch him. But this man after all, wasn't a stranger.

He'd been terrified of his dad, because he knew something had happened, had changed his dad. How he knew? He just did.

And like he just knew something had changed his dad, the same way he just knew Sammy was here. But Sammy had changed too. Usually Sammy felt like... clean, pure, innocent. Everything he wasn't and would never be again, only when Sammy was there, filling this part. And Sammy always felt small and frightened, and that triggered in him the feeling to protect. To safe.

This Sammy was different. It was all this, and at the same time so different.

Dean stopped his thoughts, panic growing a little as he tried to breathe but couldn't draw in any air. The pressure on his chest almost too much to bear.

He hurt. Everything hurt. And the pressure robbed him of his last strength. He was too weary. Even opening his eyes was too much of a task. Then the hands were back. They moved him to his side and some of the pressure on his chest suddenly left through his mouth and nose.

He took a shuddering breath and started to cough, gasping at the white, hot agony that seemed to split him in half. But the veil that had cocooned him, lifted and he could hear a voice.

He concentrated on the softly spoken words, gentle hands that were pulling him upwards, something soft on his cold skin… and suddenly the care he felt was gone when something pressed hard on his belly. He cried out in agony, wanting to get away from the cruel hands. But the pressure eased a little and he sighed. Feeling himself being moved he felt warmth encircling him, accompanied by a soft litany of "Sorrysorrysorry". His tense muscles starting to relax as he felt the familiarity. Sammy… he thought as he slowly drifted off into nothingness again.

...

Sam could feel the horror of what he witnessed a few seconds ago, keeping its grip on him. He fought hard to get the images back into the far corner of his mind. He needed to help his brother. Slowly, with his breath coming out in little gasps, he ignored the fire in his back and crawled over to Dean and gently turned him to his side. He choked when he saw that there was blood mingled in the bile clogging his brother's airways.

Then, Dean took in his first shuddering breath, which turned into a cough, and Sam's hands pulled him into a semi-sitting position, feeling the cold and clammy skin beneath his fingertips. He looked around for the hoodie he bought earlier, spotting it lying abandoned on the vanity and grabbing it, he gently eased it over Dean's head.

The blood was still flowing freely from the new gash on Dean's belly and Sam knew he had to stop it. Grabbing his T-shirt, he balled it up, wiped away the blood and then put more pressure on the wound.

He could feel Dean writhe under him and with a whispered litany of "Sorrysorrysorry" he eased the pressure slightly and cradled the boy in his lap, rocked him until he felt him going lax in his arms again.

Shakily, he got on his feet; Dean nestled securely in his arms. He took the sweatpants he hadn't changed yet and took one last glance around the messy bathroom, before hurrying to leave it.

...

Outside, he ran into the cashier, who was on his way to the bathroom.

"Sir, is everything alright?" he asked. Seeing Sam's pale complexion and the small boy gathered in his arms, unmoving, he stopped in midstride, looking him up and down.

"Sir?"

Sam didn't stop, just pushed past him and continued his way out the gas station. He had to get away from there. Now.

...

Hal Stevenson watched the man walk past him, a shudder going up and down his spine when he smelled the sticky-sweet fume following him.

"Oi!" he called after him, pushing the door to the bathroom open and staggered backwards, hands covering his mouth and nose at the blood and the smell.

"Holy shit!" he whispered, stumbling back and landing on his backside as nausea and dizziness hit him. He heaved violently, moving on all fours, sweat running down his forehead and neck.

He needed to call the police... this man... the boy... getting to his feet he stumbled forward to the counter, grabbed the phone and dialled 9-1-1.

**To be continued...**

* * *

Liked it? Not? Let me know!!!


	11. The calm before the Storm

Hey folks!

Thanks for your feedback. It is really cool to know that you enjoy this... because that's why I'm doing this... as the title suggests, it's the calm before the storm. Sam has to gather up some strength to carry on... and for all who were screaming at Sam that he should go and get help... Bobby – at least in this story - doesn't know the Winchester's yet. Sam can't go to Pastor Jim, because little Sammy is there... and well *snorts* – we don't want the Universe to explode or something... but he'll get help, although Sam is more then capable to manage on his own. I mean... he's doing a pretty good job in taking care for Dean...

And now a **Warning:** Awwwness ahead!!! - Enjoy!!!

* * *

_Before:_

_Hal Stevenson watched the man walk past him, a shudder going up and down his spine when he smelled the sticky-sweet fume following him. _

"_Oi!" he called after him, pushing the door to the bathroom open and staggered backwards, hands covering his mouth and nose at the blood and the smell. _

"_Holy shit!" he whispered, stumbling back and landing on his backside as nausea and dizziness hit him. He heaved violently, moving on all fours, sweat running down his forehead and neck. _

_He needed to call the police... this man... the boy... getting to his feet, he stumbled forward to the counter, grabbed the phone and dialled 9-1-1._

* * *

At some point Sam's dazed mind told him to stop, at least long enough to care properly for Dean, who lay huddled on the front passenger seat.

He killed the engine, opened the door and went searching for the car's first-aid-kit. Finding it he returned to Dean's side.

He tugged up the blue hoodie Dean was wearing now, seeing the shuddering rise and fall of Dean's little chest, the tended wounds from earlier and the blood-smeared, bundled T-Shirt he had wrapped around Dean's middle.

He felt Dean flinch under his fingers, and saw his hands starting to shake, when he as gently as possible unwrapped the soiled shirt and saw the angry gash that had appeared under Despair's fingers, still trickling lazily. He opened one of the gauze packs, gently dabbing away the blood and used another gauze pad to put it on the seeping wound. Hearing Dean's ragged breathing, he started another soft litany of "sorry's" as he eased the small boy in a sitting position to wrap a bandage around his midsection. Even though Dean's arms were shaking because of the strain and pain, he still wrapped them around Sam's neck and held on for dear life. After caring for the wounds, Sam slumped back, not caring when the first-aid-kit slipped from the seat. He cradled Dean to his chest, feeling the tense muscles of the little boy eventually ease and the ragging breath even out, as he relaxed into comfort.

…

He felt the light of a new day tickle his nose and he twitched, waking up slowly. Last night's events still lingered in his mind and he tried to fight off blurs of strange memories that were like those of a bad horror-movie. He yawned and stopped himself from stretching, feeling the weight on his lap and chest shift a little and the soft skin of his brother's cheek coming in contact with his bare arms. He opened his eyes then, smiling down at the mop of unruly hair.

Dean sighed in his sleep making Sam chuckle quietly.

The night had been quiet, after Sam had regained enough strength to carry on. He had driven for at least three more hours, before parking the car at a back road out of Hyannis, NB and decided to call it a day.

Dean had looked up blearily, talking incoherently as he gathered the little boy in his arms and carried him around the car to the backseat to settle them there. He wrapped his arms around the thin body and moved one hand to rest in the middle of Dean's chest.

The steady and rhythmic beat of Dean's heart soon lulled him into sleep.

Now he got out from under Dean slowly, being careful not to jostle him too much and tucked the blanket he had used on both of them back around the tiny shoulders.

While driving last night, a plan had started to form in his head and he knew now that if he wants to help his brother he has to go back to the roots. To the one person his father mentioned. The one person who was responsible for him to be here. Missouri.

**_SPNSPN_**

The stench of blood and decay made his stomach roll as he stood in the small men's room, looking at the mess. Every window and mirror was burst, glass littered the floor. But the worst things were the blood spatters and the puddle of vomit. His imagination made him see pictures of the events happening here last night… he shuddered and took a step back.

Ever since coming to consciousness, he had tried to find out what had happened, but only flashes of him trying to hurt his only meaning in life came back to haunt him, mocking him.

He swallowed and slowly turned around, giving the young cashier a measured glance.

"So, Mr. Stevenson, please recount what happened last night." He asked huskily.

The young, skinny man with red hair and freckles all over, shifted uneasy from one foot to the other.

"Do I have'ta… you know… again?" he asked unsure.

"Boy, the government sent me..." was all John said, as he nodded at the man, who stuffed his hands deep down the pockets of his jeans and started:

"There… was this man. He… filled up his tank and grabbed some… stuff…"

John cut off the man, raising an eyebrow: "What… stuff?" he asked.

"Uhm… don't remember much… a kid's shirt… and… peanut M&M's… uhm… the boy… the… the kid looked sick. And… and he told me he puked… the guy told me he puked that's why he wore the man's T-shirt…"

"Go on…" he asked, trying to keep his voice even, not wanting to show his impatience.

"I… I thought he might want'ta… 'ta clean the little boy up some… and… and told him where the restrooms were…"

"What happened next?" he asked.

"I… I heard some… some weird noises and decided it's time'ta… 'ta check it out… but the man came out… and I tell ya he was white as a sheet… and he carried the little guy… and… and I thought he might have gotten worse or something… but… but I got worried when the man left. The kid didn't move... and he... he just carried him away… and… and that's when I found the… the restroom… and gawd… the smell… it was… it was… I can't…" the man stopped and swallowed, getting a little green around the nose, swaying on his feet.

But John had heard enough. Worry tore through him, cutting off his air supply as he turned on his heels, heading for the door and fresh air.

His blood rushed through his veins, filling his ears with an annoying ring… then he was out the door, on his knees on the dusty parking lot of the little gas station, choking, trying to swallow down the threatening tears.

He failed them… he failed them so badly.

_Suck it up, Winchester! _The voice in his head started. The voice that made him go on. Always. The voice that told him not to back down, never to give up. Raising up his head he stared ahead, thinking hard for a moment.

What to do? Where to go? The one person who knew about all of this... the one person... Missouri!

The mocking voice of the demon was still lingering in the dark corners of his consciousness, teasing him: _You'll be to late, Winchester. I'll get what I want!_

John growled and stood up, straight and tall.

"You'll go to hell!" his voice whispered, then he tilted his head back and screamed in pent up frustration: "You hear me? You. Are. Going. To. Hell."

Nearby birds fluttered from a tree, shrieking at the rude distraction.

**... to be continued...**

* * *

So? Any suggestions? Thank you for reading and reviewing!!!


	12. Help from a friend

Hey guys!

So... I wasn't sure if it's a good part, but well I decided to bring it on, because it explains a little the possession-thingy... uhm... well... enjoy! And sorry that this is a small chapter, but you know I update like everyday, so... you'll soon see where this is going, if you're not able to "imagine" it ;)

Let me know if I screwed things!!!

* * *

_Before:_

_What to do? Where to go? The one person who knew about all of this... the one person... Missouri! _

_The mocking voice of the demon was still lingering in the dark corners of his consciousness, teasing him: You'll be to late, Winchester. I'll get what I want! _

_John growled and stood up, straight and tall. _

"_You'll go to hell!" his voice whispered, then he tilted his head back and screamed in pent up frustration: "You hear me? You. Are. Going. To. Hell." _

_Nearby birds fluttered from a tree, shrieking at the rude distraction. _

* * *

"Sit down, Mr...."

"It's Doctor, Doctor Sotto, with a double 't', son." Sotto's voice was smooth and patronizing as he watched the young police officer, scribble down notes.

"So, Doctor Sotto. You called in earlier this morning? You said you have some information's about last night's events at the gas station in Mitchell?"

"Yes sir." Doctor Sotto nodded.

"You see? I heard the news... and... you see sir? The young man's description... the man with the boy... I, he was in my office only hours earlier. I tried to talk him out of leaving you know sir? But..." and at that, he showed to his face, "he... he drew a gun on me and knocked me down."

The police officer slowly nodded.

"Why didn't you called it in right away?" he asked.

Doctor Sotto swallowed, playing with his fingers; his whole demeanour was fearful and embarrassed. "Well, he... he locked me in the examination room. There was no telephone and I didn't get out... in like hours." the doctor said, looking up to meet the officer's eyes.

"Its okay Doctor Sotto. It must have been a frightful and rough night for you." the officer said sympathetic.

"Yes indeed, son... but in my age... I should have had enough knowledge of the human nature to have been prepared. I should have called you right away... as soon as I acknowledged the boy's condition."

"Condition?" the man asked, bending forward slightly, his pen hitting the paper beneath the tip.

"Oh yeah... The kid shows signs of severe neglecting and abuse."

Twenty minutes later Doctor Sotto left the building. That was just too easy. It's so easy to screw with a human head. So easy.

The old, grey haired man, walked away from the police station, a malice sneer on his features as his eyes – only for a moment - swirled into a dirty-yellow colour. Then it was back to its normal bluish grey. It was time for the next act in the game...

**SPNSPN**

She was drumming her fingers on the hard surface of the table. Something was up. Something was disturbing the channels.

She couldn't pin point any direction. But soon, all too soon she'll know.

She needed water! She knew... the tub.

She jumped to her feet, and marched to her little bathroom. Putting the plug in she started to run the water. Letting it run over her hand...

_Too cold!_

Decision made, she mixed it with warm water.

She checked the temperature again...

_Too warm!_

What. The. Hell!

Sitting beside the bathtub she let her thoughts drift, seeking out the thread that led her to this actions... and then she connected with him. His thoughts crashing into her like a semi.

_Help!_

And the face of the handsome young man ceased in worry.

Shadows dancing around him, taunting him and... a little boy in his arms.

She was back in her bathroom, choking.

The faucet was turned off, the tub filled halfway with semi warm water. She jumped to her feet.

_Salt!_

That was the last thought he offered for preparation.

She headed for the kitchen and at the moment she opened one of the drawers she stopped dead.

_Too late._

Turning around on her heels she headed for the door, pushing it open at the exact same moment when a car stopped in front of her house.

**SPNSPN**

Sam swayed with exhaustion, as he dragged himself and his brother out of the car.

He could feel the fever radiate from Dean's body again. The slight trembling had grown constantly into huge shudders he could now feel rippling through the little boy.

He only stopped once or twice, driving straight on through the day, his goal – Lawrence – coming nearer agonizingly slow.

Dean managed to stay awake for about two hours. He forced his small sibling to at least drink some Gatorade and have a few peanuts M&M's before Dean fell asleep beside him again.

From that moment on, his condition worsened.

...

"Sam..." he looked up with tired, red-rimmed eyes to see her standing there and a weary smile crept on his face.

"Missouri..." he answered her greeting.

Seeing her frown he blushed, having forgotten that she could read other people's minds like an open book.

But the frown immediately turned into a concerned smile.

"It's bad, isn't it?" she moved aside so he could enter the house.

"I prepared water to bring his fever down... and... salt?" she asked, not entirely sure what he wanted with it.

"Put it in the water." he answered, letting her lead the way.

"Why..." she began, but when she met his gaze she stopped.

"Because he's too weak. I saw her attack. She's getting stronger every time she feeds from him! Not only from his life-force, but physically as well." He explained, sitting down on the closed toilet lid and started to strip the little boy in his arms.

Missouri took in a small shocked breath when she saw the little boy's torso.

"Oh my..." she whispered.

"The salt. Please! It won't stop her. But maybe it'll help him and weaken her. If she attacks now... I..." He held the little boy tight for a moment. "I can't put him through that again..." he whispered, watching Missouri leave the little bathroom.

**... to be continued...**

* * *

_Thanks for reading... let me know if you like it - or not!!! _


	13. Struggles

Hey folks,

sorry I had to proof your patience... but I had a whole lot to do the last two days... some may have noticed that I wasn't lazy and still put some stuff up. Well... major "awws" ahead for you as a treat!!! Enjoy it – and let me know what you think, okay? -Lee

* * *

_Before:_

_Missouri took in a small shocked breath when she saw the little boy's torso._

"_Oh my..." she whispered. _

"_The salt. Please! It won't stop her. But maybe it'll help him and weaken her. If she attacks now... I..." He held the little boy tight for a moment. "I can't put him through that again..." he whispered, watching Missouri leave the little bathroom. _

* * *

Sam gently lowered Dean into the salty water and gasped in surprise when the limp bundle in his arms started to trash as soon as his skin came in contact with the lukewarm and salty water. A pained cry and hot tears found their way running down Dean's cheek and he started to fight with everything he had.

Sam was drenched in mere seconds, and almost lost his grip twice as he swallowed mouthfuls of salt-water, gagging on it, while trying to control his struggling sibling.

He had to change his position before his brother slipped from his hands.

Sam stumbled when Dean bucked against his hold and caught himself in time before crashing head-over into the bath tub and on his little brother.

Swallowing a curse, he took a deep breath and set one foot in the bath tub, and then the other, altering his position, crouching over Dean.

He grabbed the spluttering and coughing slippery small body, holding onto him, his voice first quivering as he tried to break through the kid's horror.

"Shhh! Dean calm down! It's okay... it's okay... I know it hurts, but it'll get better... shhh!" He could feel the shaking grow into cruel spasms, while Dean, oblivious to his words, continued to fight to get out of the too cold, salty water.

Sam hissed at the sharp nails biting his skin, when Dean started to claw on his shirt and neck, trying to use him as leverage to get out of the tub and the salt-water.

Slowly, Sam changed his position again, lowering himself further into the tepid water. He bent forward, feeling Dean's breath hitch, tightening his hold on Sam, as broken skin came in contact with the water again. One of Sam's hands gripped the rim of the bathtub, while his free hand stopped at the nape of Dean's neck. He could feel Dean's pulse racing as his fingers brushed the pulse point. But he kept his hold, ignoring the too cold water biting his skin as he continued to soothe.

"Shhh, Dean. 's me... 's Sammy... it'll be better... shhh... Calm down... shhhh..."

He didn't know how long his brother kept up the fight only that eventually all strength left Dean and the little boy lay limply and spent in the tub, while he knelt over him. Sam slowly entangled himself from his brother then and sat down beside the tub, watching his left hand scooping water over his brother, keeping his right hand on his brother's back, just between the shoulder blades to balance his head. Sam wondered just when his hands had become so big...he couldn't remember a time when Dean seemed this small and... delicate.

He kept up his administrations, to the point when his right arm started to cramp from keeping up the strain too long. He stopped, ran his hand over his face in exhaustion and almost yelped in surprise when Missouri handed him a towel.

"How long..." he started, then shook his head and motioned to her to keep the towel, as he crouched beside the tub, cradling Dean in his arms and hoisted him out of the tub into Missouri's waiting arms.

"I have some soup, if you're hungry." she said absently, watching as he nodded slowly and took the bundled up boy out of her arms.

"Thanks."

"Despair?" she asked, looking at him.

"What?" he asked, his mind muddled suddenly.

"Is it really Despair?" she repeated.

He nodded, feeling Dean's head shift slightly on his shoulder. _At least the fever broke..._

"You know what, boy? Just go ahead, make yourself comfortable on the couch. 'm gonna get you some soup. How does that sound?"

"I have to change the bandages first, dress him... and change." Sam mumbled, looking down at his drenched clothes.

---

When Missouri entered her living room fifteen minutes later, a gentle smile lit up her face when she saw the scene in front of her.

Sam laid curled up on the couch, his head resting awkwardly on the armrest, his back facing her, his knees drawn up. His left arm was scooped around the little boy wedged between him and the backrest of the couch.

Missouri walked over to them slowly, putting the tray with soup and bread on the small table and grabbed the blanket on her armchair, draping it gently over the sleeping couple.

"Get some rest. Get some strength back. If I'm right, you'll need it..." she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.

**SPNSPN**

He had heard her scream in rage and pain. Getting her angry, won't save the kid. It'll only help in killing him sooner. Smirking, he rolled down the window of his car, and alleviated the speed to the city-limits of Lawrence.

**SPNSPN**

Waking up, Sam suppressed a groan. His neck was hurting, and when he stretched his legs he heard something in his back pop.

Then he was suddenly on alert, as it hit him that the bundle in his arms was gone. Sitting up, he blinked as black dots started to obscure his vision. He could hear soft voices in the adjoining room and stood up, following them.

He froze, standing on the threshold of the small kitchen, watching in awe as Dean sat on the chair, chewing on some pancakes. His legs were swinging back and forth as he seemed to listen intently to Missouri's story.

Somehow the little boy seemed to feel eyes on him, because his head jerked and then their gazes locked.

The fork that the boy held clattered to the plate as he stared - eyes wide - at Sam, and then he was out of the chair, swaying a little as he made his way over to him.

Sam crouched, looking at those familiar features of his brother, bound in the little boy and swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat.

"Sammy..." the word was meant only for him. A word of awe and sincerity. And Sam comprehended, that it was the first time the small boy was actually aware of saying this name.

Swallowing again, he managed a grin, and those green eyes locked on his again, as thin fingers, touched his face, tracing along his jaw, his forehead, his lips, before they withdrew and suddenly small arms were around his neck, keeping him in a strangling hold. His arms wrapped around the shaking shoulders, standing up with the extra-weight in his arms, one of his hand going up and down the slender back, cooing gentle nonsense. The words tumbling easily from his lips as if he never had done anything else.

His eyes met Missouri's and she nodded, tears running down her cheeks, and Sam bit down hard to hold on, staying strong to provide comfort.

**To be continued...**

* * *

**Hope you liked the chapter, let me know, okay? **


	14. Here and There

Hi and so-thank-you for all the nice reviews. You guys really made my day. Frankly we soon come to the end of this story. But before we do, some action has to take place, right?

So... enjoy the upcoming chapters, and let me know if you liked it!

* * *

_Before:_

"_Sammy..." the word was meant only for him. A word of awe and sincerity. And Sam comprehended, that it was the first time the small boy was actually aware of saying this name. _

_Swallowing again, he managed a grin, and those green eyes locked on his again, as thin fingers, touched his face, tracing along his jaw, his forehead, his lips, before they withdrew and suddenly small arms were around his neck, keeping him in a strangling hold. His arms wrapped around the shaking shoulders, standing up with the extra-weight in his arms, one of his hand going up and down the slender back, cooing gentle nonsense. _

* * *

The afternoon sun slowly turned golden, and soon the night will come. Sam kept up the research, every once in a while being interrupted by Missouri bustling around the living room supplying him with more books.

He did however learn a lot in the short amount of time.

Despair, one of the demonic plagues wore her prey down. First by feeding of her prey's emotions, and later by drinking their blood.

He stared at the pages, his right hand absently going through Dean's hair, while the kid slept, his head touching Sam's hip.

She attached herself ... suddenly the world around him grew dim, he dropped sideways and...

----

_... he tried to scream __and fight her off, but she was __too__ strong, holding onto him, pinning him beneath her. Her mouth __clasped__ over his, foul breath assaulting his every __sense__, something slithering in on his tongue and he bit down hard in instinct._

_Blood filled his mouth, running down his throat as he gagged into her, __but she__ still kept his lips in a crushing, invading... kiss..._

----

Sam was on all fours, retching, trying to get the foul taste of her blood out of him. His neck muscles bunched when again and again his stomach cramped; emptying on the carpet everything he had eaten through the day.

He felt warm gentle hands on his neck to support him, but they withdrew as if his skin had burned them.

Soft sobs filled the air, while Sam continued to retch, until nothing was left.

"Guh!" he flopped back, closing his eyes, overwhelmed by disgust, fatigue and helplessness.

"I saw a glimpse of what you can see..." Missouri's voice was small and weary.

"She's blood-bound... gawd... she's blood-bound..." he whispered shaking hands covering his mouth.

"The bitch bound herself to my brother's blood!" he growled, his eyes snapping open as he stood up.

"Sam?"

"I gotta go, Missouri. You gotta watch him. I need some stuff. She'll curse the day she started to mess with ME!!!!" he spat.

"SAM! No!" she screamed after him, but he already opened the door...

...

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." yellow eyes met his, and the demon flicked his wrist lazily and send Sam backwards. He hit the floor hard, his breath leaving his body in a whoosh, as Dr. Sotto, or the demon in him entered the house, closing the door behind him.

He walked down the hallway nonchalantly, as if time didn't matter.

"Sam!" before Missouri reached him; Sam saw her fly through the air and hit the wall, slipping to the ground, motionless.

"Are you in a hurry to do... what? Exactly?" He stopped at Sam's side, crouching down, running his finger down Sam's chest...

"Guhhh! Let go of me and..." Sam panted when he felt the demonic force starting to press down on him, squishing the breath out of him.

"You think the little fellow in there is your only problem, Sammy?"

"It's... Sam!" Sam wheezed, feeling the pressure increase.

"Sammy..." the demon tsked at him, withdrawing his finger, his forearms resting on his thighs now.

"You see, Sammy..." he started, as he stood up again, "You don't see all angles here. You think this is all about little Dean surviving my friend, Despair... but you never... never once contemplated that, maybe I wanted you right where you are now? Out of my way? Here, on a hunt to save your little brother, while, in your time, your brother is... defenceless? Alone? Vulnerable?"

Sam felt his heart and breath stop all at once. His eyes widened as he watched the man in front of him letting his head fall back and starting to bark with laughter.

"Sammy, you're hilarious. I really like that shocked expression... but seriously. I'm tired of playing."

He opened his jacket, and pulled out a knife.

"You see? I thought you might need this..." he crouched down again, the tip of the knife dangerously near to Sam's face.

"Oh, no need to thank me... you know? I just want to make sure, you're... successful here."

He straightened up again. "Well, then... we'll see each other in the future..." he turned around, but then thought of something else, returning to Sam. "Uhhh, you want me to tell your brother anything from you?" he asked, smiling wickedly.

Before Sam could utter a word, a shudder went through the Doctor's frame and he bucked and started to scream. Black smoke was expelled from his mouth and nose. The knife cluttered to the ground, coming to a rest beside Sam, followed by a sickening thud, as Doctor Sotto's passed out body hit the floor nearby.

Sam took a few deep breaths, his hand resting on his heart, feeling it thumbing hard and irregular.

_Oh god_... he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his composure but knew there wouldn't be a long pause.

A small whimper from the adjoining room made him sob dryly, before he picked himself off the floor, ignoring the Doctor and Missouri for now.

**... to be continued...**

* * *

_Well, anyone expecting this??? ;) Let me know and you get a cookie *LOL* - Thanks for staying with the story and reading and reviewing! You're awesome!!!_


	15. Insipid

Hey folks!  
Sorry it took me a day to have the update ready... I'm just sooo busy with "RL" - thanks for all your reviews. You guys really rock.  
Well, I remembered I talked about some action... I hope you'll find some in this chapter. And I guess a little "Awww" is in here as well.

Sam's really in need of a break after this ;) - Enjoy!!!

* * *

_Before:_

Oh god.._. he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his composure but knew there wouldn't be a long pause. _

_A small whimper from the adjoining room made him sob dryly, before he picked himself off the floor, ignoring the Doctor and Missouri for now._

_

* * *

_

Sam had done blood-rituals before and knew enough about binding-spells, to know how to proceed.  
Still, this was a little boy, his brother. But…it was his only chance to buy some time.  
Dean was burning up again, Sam could feel it when he bended over and picked him up. He laid him on the floor in the cleansed circle.  
The little boy moaned as if in pain, and suddenly dread filled Sam's very being. Time will run out, eventually.

He saw Dean's back arch, as he screamed pitifully and Sam reacted to it.

...

_The place was so dark and he felt her on him again. Surrounding him, her lips on his, taking, demanding more of him, draining him. He __wept __silently. _Stop! Stop! Please stop!_ He cried again and again, writhing under her, trying to curl into a small ball, __not wanting to give her__ access. But her force was unforgiving, unrelenting. He felt himself slip away further from the world he knew. The world with his little brother... the world where his dad was a hero... why didn't he come to __save__ him?... A sharp pain ripped through him and he bucked, using his last reminding strength for this, but failed miserably. He was too weak to fight her, too tired to keep going... "It's over Dean... I gonna make things right..." a far away voice soothed him and __foreign__ words followed, waking something in him. _

_She screeched at those infiltrating words, tried to move him away, wrestle him down, but he fought with everything he had against her. _

_Hot pain seemed to rip him apart and he knew in the real world he must have screamed... the words faded out for a moment, only to begin again, with more force, driving her away from him, stopping her __from hurting him even __more. _

_Something wet connected __with him and__ she __finally __lost her contact __with__ him. __Pain__ exploded throughout his whole body, driving his consciousness away from her, out of her reach, forever... _

_..._

Sam was on his knees, bowing forward, keeping Dean's shuddering body pinned beneath him. He could feel the heat of the small body rippling off in waves to him, his mouth only millimetres away from Dean's ear… he started to whisper words into his brother's ear, feeling Dean's breathing going frantic, his head trying to move away from Sam.

Sam could feel the energy build up between them, feel Despair trying to cling onto his brother, to suck him out more.

Something wet was drenching Sam's shirt and from its sticky consistence he knew it was Dean's blood, as she dug into him again with her claws, still too weak to show herself.

A grim smile tugged on his lips and using his body-weight to keep his writhing brother immobile, he grabbed the knife, drawing it over his forearm, warm blood spilling from the shallow wound.

Turning to his side, he dragged Dean's shirt up, revealing the claw-mark she inflicted and not wasting any time he pushed down hard with his forearm, connecting blood and wound…

Dean screamed at the very second his blood mixed with Sam's, a gush of foul blood being expelled from his mouth, drenching Sam before the energy burst threw him off of his smaller sibling. He flew through the room, connecting with the wall, and slipped down into a heap.

...

She stood there, between the brothers, eyes white, hair filthy and grey… her body oozing, bloody, her dirty dress hanging loosely around her frame.

She had fed. Oh, yes… but her hunger wasn't over yet. A small cry escaped her lips, as she stumbled toward the body on the floor. He had drawn her out. He had made the small boy tasting insipid. Going on her knees beside him, her fingers started to caress his face, following the path of his chest, his abdomen and then turning right, she slipped her fingers through the blood on his forearm.

A pleasured sound came over her lips and she bent over in her thirst, for blood so willingly given…

...

He came to, to a sucking sound, feeling odd, detached, and then realization hit him.

She was over him, feeding from him... he tried to move, but her hands held him in a vice like grip, and he started to panic.

He needed to get her off of him, so he started to fight her. But his movements were sluggish, uncoordinated, his eyes moving, searching frantically for the knife, when she lifted her head.

His breath caught up in his throat when he saw her bloody mouth, a wicked grin blossoming on her crimson lips. She didn't look like the old, weak woman anymore; her skin was soft and young. He swallowed down the bile, trying to get a glimpse of Dean, who was lying motionless a few feet away.

"Dean..." he whispered... feeling her foggy eyes rest on him. He knew what would come, if he didn't fight her. And soon, her mouth started to touch his, to bind him to her, the same way she had bound Dean... his hands moved frantically, searching for the dagger. It couldn't be far away... her lips touched his... and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, how to think, as he felt the softness of her lips, almost succumbed... but then the memories of his vision slammed into him and he felt something slippery gliding into his mouth, exploring. His hands touched the hilt of the dagger, and he gagged on the slippery thing working itself deeper down his throat... and he pushed forward... her kiss suddenly a scream, as the dagger pierced her.

He forced the sharp blade deeper, feeling her blood run down his forearm, as she moved her hands over his, trying to stop him.

She slowly fell to the ground and he got the upper hand now, looming over her, still pushing and forcing the dagger forward, deeper, pinning her to the ground, until eventually he collapsed over her, gasping for breath, coughing the foulness out of his mouth.

He felt her take a shuddering breath, followed by a menacing laughter, and he raised his head, looking into her white, milky eyes.

"You... can't... kill... me!" she wheezed, her voice oddly distorted.

Sam's breath was coming out in fast little gasps, but he pushed himself up and looked into her face. He watched as her full, soft skin, started to wrinkle again, liver spots blossoming, while her blood was taken from her.

"I know, but I can drive you back into the dark hole you came from... Go to hell, bitch!" he whispered, seeing her body turn more transparent with each second, until it finally dissolved into fine, white ash. The silence in the room was deafening and Sam collapsed forward again, feeling himself drift, relenting in the assurance that the bond between Despair and his brother was broken...

Dean... fighting against the onslaught of darkness, he pried his eyes open and pushed himself up.

A dizzy-spell almost sent him in nose-diving for the floor again, but he panted against the swirling of the room and managed to stay on all fours. He shook his head against the light-headiness and moved forward, toward his unmoving brother.

By the time he reached Dean's side, his whole frame was shaking from exertion. His shaking fingers searched for the pulse point, feeling the soft, clammy skin underneath his fingertips before they found the erratic thumping. A keening sound escaped Sam's throat when he fell to Dean's side, cradling the body of his small brother to him to share strength and warmth as he allowed his body to finally give into the exhaustion that came with the last couple of days, the hurt and blood loss.

**To be continued...**

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing!!!


	16. Back in Time?

Hey all!

So, this is the last chapter now... only a epilogue left after that. And as promised here you'll find some suspense... and it's totally not my fault. The story just decided to go that way and... well...

Thank you for all who read this, put it on alert or to their favorites. It's nice to know people like and enjoy my work... and special thanks again to my **Pumpkin**for beta-ing.

**Romi** – that's it. Your birthday-gift is finished ;)

* * *

_Before:_

_Dean... fighting against the onslaught of darkness, he pried his eyes open and pushed himself up._

_A dizzy-spell almost sent him in nose-diving for the floor again, but he panted against the swirling of the room and managed to stay on all fours. He shook his head against the light-headiness and moved forward, toward his unmoving brother. _

_By the time he reached Dean's side, his whole frame was shaking from exertion. His shaking fingers searched for the pulse point, feeling the soft, clammy skin underneath his fingertips before they found the erratic thumping. A keening sound escaped Sam's throat when he fell to Dean's side, cradling the body of his smaller sibling to him to share strength and warmth as he allowed his body to finally give into the exhaustion that came with the hurt and blood loss._

* * *

He woke up to bright sunlight and with his right arm asleep. Moving his arm, he felt a small weight pressing down on it, forcing him to open his eyes and look down.

Dean was curled up on his side, his head resting on Sam's shoulder, one arm on his chest, sleeping the sleep of the righteous.

Sam could already see some changes on Dean; the deathly pale pallor had left his brother's face and was replaced with a healthy rosy colour, although the dark circles around Dean's eyes remained, the skin almost translucent. A soft noise from his other side made him turn his head and he found himself looking up directly in John's face.

He couldn't suppress a flinch, seeing John wince inwardly at his reaction.

"How are you?" John asked in a soft whisper.

" 'm good." Sam answered, moving the fingers of his right hand, to get the circulation going again.

"You want me to take him into his own bed?" John asked, seeing the discomfort on Sam's face.

"No!" Sam replied immediately, louder then intended.

John smiled knowingly.

"I don't know when he woke up... I just found him in the early morning hours, didn't thought he would wake up so soon... would be able to..." John trailed off, his eyes turning dark as he remembered last night.

"I didn't think..."

"Stop it dad." Sam said, his arm sneaking around the slender shoulders of the little boy.

A genuine smile crept on his face when Dean leaned into him, his hand clutching his T-shirt.

They were both quiet for a few minutes, before Sam spoke again.

"The demon... he said something." he started, his gaze fixed on Dean's face.

"He said, that it was just a trick... a trick to separate me from my brother. So he... he..."

He felt the world suddenly shift in its axis.

"Sammy..."

He looked up to meet the eyes of his father. "Dad?" he asked... feeling the world around him slip some more.

"Sammy, you have to let go of him..."

"What? No!" his words slurred together.

"Sam. You have to go back. Dean really might be in danger. The demon told me the same. As it left I tried to get to you, to find you, to warn you..." Hard hands grabbed his arms, dragging him out of bed, away from Dean who woke up at the sudden movement around him.

"Missouri's trying to bring you back... Saaammmmmm..."

The world was fading fast now and Sam turned around just in time to catch a last glimpse of the little boy on the bed, face tear-stricken, as...

----

... the air was forced from his lungs when he hit the wall, sliding down, trying to catch his breath, stopping his fall with his hands.

The room smelled of ozone and... vomit.

Sam looked up to see gentle moonlight illuminate the room, making the shadows around him dark and threatening. He lost some hours... hours Dean had been alone...

"Dean..." he forced his brother's name from his lips, gritting his teeth as he stumbled to his feet. He walked to the heap lying on the floor by the far away wall.

"Dean..." he whispered, gently touching his brother's shoulder, grimacing at the disgusting puddle Dean was lying in.

A small groan made him flinch, and he saw Dean's eyes flutter.

He heaved his brother up gently, leaning him on the wall for support.

Confused eyes tried to focus on him when he used a handkerchief to wipe away most of the grime.

"Dude..." Dean rasped, swallowing convulsively.

" 's okay..." Sam answered, "you're okay." His hands stopped on the large bump he could feel just behind his brother's left ear.

"Shit... Dean, can you stand?" he asked.

"Mmmhhh..." Dean's eyes closed again.

"C'mon! No sleeping here. We need to get you outta here."

"S'mmy?" Sam stopped in mid-movement.

"What is it Dean?"

"You'ere gone..." Dean slurred.

"What?" he asked, stopping again, resting both of his hands on Dean's shoulders.

"I... woke up and you were gone." Dean tried again.

"I wasn't gone..." Sam answered.

"Did you get the spirit?" Dean changed the subject.

"Spirit? Nawww, it wasn't a spirit..." Sam felt the fine hairs on his neck raise; gripping his brother under the armpits he hauled him to his feet.

Dean crashed into him and for a moment Sam had his hands full, trying to keep Dean upright.

"Old..., white-haired... hag. What... was it then, huh?" Dean's head lolled back while trying to concentrate on Sam's face.

Sam's grip tightened, heart suddenly racing in his chest, as he moved his hand to his brother's face, rising Dean's chin.

"Dean..." he urged. "Dean listen. C'mon. Did something happen?" he asked, trying to lock eyes with his brother.

"S'mthinghppn?" Dean blinked.

"Did she... like... kiss you?" Sam stressed.

Dean blinked again, but didn't answer. Instead, his eyes rolled back in his head and before Sam knew it his brother went limp in his arms and he struggled to keep them both standing.

"C'mon, big and heavy guy! Let's get outta here first..." he puffed and shifting his brother's dead weight, he dragged him out of the motel room.

**FIN **

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Thanks again for reading and even more thanks for reviewing ;)


	17. I knew you were there

Hey folks!

Thank you again for reading this. It's just a small epilogue left... but maybe you noticed it... there's this scene there, that left open the possibility for a Sequel.

I have to think about this, but if you liked this... I'll work on it. Anyways, there's also the "tag" I've written before starting this story "Will it be soon tomorrow Dean?". Just if you haven't read, you can read it as a longer epilogue...

* * *

EPILOGUE

"Jeez! I can't remember much from yesterday, but I sure as hell wouldn't let myself be kissed by an old hag, I'm more into nice and young ladies, with... what the hell is this all about, anyways?" Dean stopped himself mid-sentence.

Scrutinizing eyes bore into his, but he couldn't tell Dean about what happened in the past.

"I..." he stopped, his mouth opened to take in a deep breath, looking like a fish on land.

"You... just got me worried. 's all."

"Jeez, Sammy, don't get your panties in a twist. It's just a bump. Nothing I didn't have before, right?"

"Right..." Sam whispered.

"Dean?" he asked, hesitating.

Dean looked up from his coffee, raising his eyebrows in exasperation.

"Oh c'mon... give a guy a break..." seeing his brother's face, Dean sighed. _I hate those puppy-dog-eyes._

"Okay, spill it already." he groused.

Sam stopped the smirk from forming on his face.

"You... uhh... remember any of the time we stayed in Greybull?" he asked curiously.

"I told you I was sick." Dean answered with a groan but continued anyways: "I remember Dad telling me he'll take you to Pastor Jim so you wouldn't catch on whatever I got, and I felt lost..." Dean's eyes suddenly took on that far away look.

"But... in the worst times? I somehow knew you were there..." and his eyes locked with Sam's, before he looked down at his coffee again, nodding quietly. "In the worst times I just knew you were there..."

**FIN**


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